


When Life Gives You Lemons, Add Sugar

by shereadsthestars



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Explicit Sexual Content, Roommates, Sharing a Bed, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Victor is an impossible ass, Yoga Victor, Yuuri just wants to study and watch tv, but Viktor's as well towards the end, primarily Yuuri's POV, slight time jumps, written sort of vignette-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-10-16 19:31:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10578027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shereadsthestars/pseuds/shereadsthestars
Summary: What could possibly be worse than getting stuck with a roommate you weren't expecting?Discovering that roommate is none other thanViktor f*cking Nikiforov.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction and I do not own the characters of Katsuki Yuuri or Victor Nikiforov.
> 
> Enjoy! :D

"Could you honestly be any more of an asshole?" Yuuri says, slamming the refrigerator shut and spinning on his heel to glare into the living room.

"Beg pardon?" Viktor asks, barely even looking up from his book.

"My leftovers are gone."

"And this makes me an asshole, how?"

Yuuri rolls his eyes. "Because they were there this morning before I left."

"And?"

"And now they're gone."

Viktor hums, sounding bored. "What did they look like?"

 _Jesus Christ_.

"They were in a black take-out box. On the second shelf. _With my name on it_."

"Oh," Viktor says, finally pulling his gaze from the text in front of him. "I threw that away. It was making the whole fridge smell bad."

Yuuri's blood boils.

"God you are so _insufferable_ ," he grits through clenched teeth, pressing the inside of a fist to his face as he scrunches that as well. "I cannot _wait_ until the end of the year."

"Yea, well, _me neither_ ," Viktor spits back, just as irritated. "Must I remind you, yet again, that I am no more thrilled about this situation than you are?"

He doesn't wait for Yuuri to answer. "Do you think I _like_ living with someone I hadn't planned on, nor _wanted_ to to live with? Do you think I'm _happy_ about Housing screwing up so monumentally that I'd basically been given the option to take on a roommate or be homeless for the entirety of the year when I'd been _promised_ a single apartment? Do you? Because I fucking don't. And I'm _not_."

Yuuri stares, anger coursing through his veins at just how-

_Ugh!_

"Don't throw my shit away again," he says as portentously as he possibly can, then lets the force of adrenaline carry him from the room to his own; where he shuts the door a bit more forcefully than absolutely necessary there, too.

. . .

You know, having a roommate actually isn't _that_ bad.

In fact, Yuuri had roommates both his freshman _and_ sophomore years. They were incredibly pleasant experiences- all around memory makers, to be honest.

But, being roomed with Viktor Nikiforov, a consistent thorn in Yuuri's side since practically day one, is _not_ a pleasant experience.

Not in the least.

He'd sincerely thought it was an early April Fool's joke when Lynette from the Housing Department called him almost three weeks prior to inform him that there had been an unfortunate mishap regarding his paperwork.

That, somehow, upon filing his request for an on-campus apartment, the tiny check mark he'd so neatly slashed in the 'single' box was transmitted under 'double'.

Why such short notice to their error, you ask?

Well, that's because up until Viktor arrived, a week early to get settled in, _only to discover that_ his _single was in fact a double_ , no one had a clue that anything was awry.

They still haven't provided an answer as to why such a mistake was made, but, luckily for them, they were able to secure a roof over their heads.

Because wouldn't you know it, there were literally zero other vacancies.

Not even another possibility to room with someone else.

Nothing.

 _Zilch_.

So they were stuck- _are_ stuck, for the next remaining stretch of months trying to (hopefully successfully) not strangle each other.

Yuuri's restraint is already proving to wear thin, though, and they're barely even two weeks in.

Lord help him.

. . .

A light knock pulls his bleary focus from the scattered notes in front of him, and he clears his throat before answering. "Yea?"

"Did you use my toothpaste?" Viktor asks through the frail wood.

Yuuri rolls his eyes, barely suppressing a sigh. "Why would I use your toothpaste?"

His voice is tired and strained even to his own ears, so what happens next doesn't really surprise him.

The door cracks open, and Viktor's head pops through. "What?"

Yuuri _does_ sigh this time. " _Why_ would I use your toothpaste?"

Viktor squints. "I don't know. That's what I'm trying to figure out."

"Oh my god."

"Well did you use it or not?" Viktor presses, further inching his way under Yuuri's skin.

" _No_ ," Yuuri practically barks, removing his glasses to palm at his eyes. "I didn't use your fucking toothpaste. _Shit_."

"Oh," Viktor bristles, actually having the nerve to sound affronted. "Well it wasn't where I left it, so."

"Are you serious right now?" Yuuri peers up at Viktor incredulously.

"Of course I'm serious. Why would I ask if I wasn't?"

" _Jesus_ , Viktor. Don't you have anything better to do than bother me about a tube of toothpaste?"

"Actually, yes."

Yuuri blinks at the empty space Viktor leaves when he turns to retreat- not even bothering to close the door after him as he does so, and swallows back the urge to scream.

Three weeks down, only thirty something more to go.

 _You got this, just.. deep breaths_.

. . .

"Do you have to do that in here?"

Viktor peeks up from under his bangs. "Where do you suggest I do it?"

Yuuri doesn't try to hide his aggravation. "I don't know, in your _room_?"

Viktor scoffs. "Like there's adequate space for me to properly stretch in there."

 _Oh my god_.

"What do you have, a king?"

"Actually," Viktor straightens his spine, sitting at a 90 degree angle to glance over at Yuuri where he's lounging on the couch. "Yes."

Of course.

"Well, that's not my problem, is it? And I'm trying to watch tv here, so."

Viktor huffs, resuming his position. "Last I checked, I wasn't disrupting your line of vision."

Touche.

 _But_ , it is pretty hard to pay attention to what's rolling across the screen when a scantily clad Viktor is contorting his body in semi-unnatural positions just to the left of it.

"Surely a third year scholar such as yourself has heard of a peripheral, though, no?" Yuuri says condescendingly, then bites back a smile when Viktor just tosses out a middle finger instead of dignifying his snark with an answer.

 _Asshole_.

. . .

"What in god's name is that awful noise?" Viktor dredges from the shadows of the hallway, prompting Yuuri to twist at the stove.

Viktor looks like absolute crap, but Yuuri refrains from saying so because he's _finally_ wound down from the day and would really prefer not to argue at the moment.

"Music?" he offers instead, maybe slightly taking sympathy on the fact that Viktor appears to have pulled multiple all-nighters in a row.

"That," Viktor points, "is not music."

Yuuri huffs, quirking a brow as he sets the spatula down. "Technically-"

"Yuuri, _please_ ," Viktor pleads, somewhat uncharacteristically, thus rooting Yuuri on the spot. "I'm tired. I have a headache. My eyes feel as if they're about to start bleeding, and I haven't slept more than twenty minutes at a time in the last three days."

Yuuri blinks.

"Are you.. okay?" he asks slowly, reaching over to lower the volume on his phone.

Viktor sighs, then runs a hand through his messy hair. "Honestly, I think at this point I'd welcome Death with a bouquet of exotic flowers and gourmet candies."

Yuuri snorts despite the situation, and shakes his head while he flicks the burner off. "You're so dramatic."

Then, because he's a good roommate, "But, ah, can I.. do something? To help?"

Viktor's focus snaps up at that, and he stares, as if the question is being presented by an extraterrestrial being of whom he's just coming in contact with for the very first time.

"What?"

Yuuri rolls his eyes. "You know, like.. can I get you some aspirin, or something? A glass of water maybe?" he lets his gaze travel down Viktor's body, which is clad in wrinkled, ill-fitting clothing that hints he's been wearing them for a while. "When was the last time you ate?"

"I-" Viktor starts, but clamps his mouth shut immediately after. He squints as he obviously ponders this, then, almost to himself, he balks. "I don't know."

"Okay," Yuuri says, stepping forward to pull one of the two chairs out form their small kitchen table. "Sit."

Viktor seems as if he's about to resist, but thinks better of it at the last minute and does as he's told.

Yuuri pauses for a moment- because _what the hell?_ , then goes about pouring a glass of water, before leaving to retrieve a small bottle of aspirin from the bathroom.

When he sets it on the table, he receives a quiet _thank you_ in return, then resumes his previous position in front of the stove.

It proves to be incredibly difficult to ignore the calculating scrutiny tracking his every movement as he cooks, but he still manages to plate two perfectly enticing servings of spaghetti without any spills, regardless.

 _Well_ , he muses as he chews across from a noticeably improved Viktor; five weeks down, or.. you know, ahem, _whatever_.

. . .

Yuuri should have known that once Viktor recuperated from his momentary bout of vulnerability, that he'd go right back to being his normal, insufferable self.

"You _do_ realize that this isn't a yoga studio, don't you?" Yuuri asks, covering his nose and mouth against the disgusting onslaught of mixed scents lingering in their living room.

"Yes," Viktor says evenly, eyes closed as he arches his back. "I do realize that. Thank you, though. Your clever observational skills are always appreciated, Yuuri."

 _Ugh_.

"Crack a window or something, will you? Shit stinks."

"It usually does, yes," Viktor quirks a goading smile. "Really on a roll today, aren't we, magda?"

"God, you are such a dick," Yuuri declares with a shake of his head, then stalks off towards his room.

"I _do_ have one-," he hears just as the door swooshes shut behind him.

How many more weeks, now?

That's right, _too fucking many_.

. . .

"Yuuri," a whisper comes in tandem with a single nudge to his shoulder.

He groans- his limbs heavy and thoughts distorted.

" _Yuuri_ ," the voice comes again, harsher, so this time he cracks an eye open, and-

Darkness.

"What time is it?" he asks groggily, hoping the disembodied voice will answer him.

"Late," Viktor says irritably. "You were snoring and woke me up. Now please go lock yourself in your room so I can get some rest."

"Fuck you," Yuuri slurs drowsily, though it comes out more like _fu'k yo'h_ against the couch cushion.

Viktor scoffs. "You wish."

"Arrogant prick," Yuuri mumbles, pushing himself up.

He's not wearing his glasses, and doesn't have the energy to feel around for them, so he stands, uneasily, then closes his eyes to just shuffle his way to his bed.

He makes it about five feet before he stubs his toe and hunches over in pain.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Viktor sighs in frustration; which is the only indication Yuuri gets that Viktor is as close as he is before firm, but yet _gentle_ hands wrap around his upper arms.

"I got it," Yuuri snaps immediately, wrenching himself away from Viktor's grip as a rush of sharp adrenaline rips through him.

"Oh?" Viktor huffs. "By all means, then."

Yuuri can't see him, but he knows Viktor just did that _thing_ when he motions all superior-like and throws his nose in the air.

Yuuri scoffs abhorrently.

"Don't know why you're helping me, anyway," he says, attempting to shuffle again- knowing damn well this would all be easier if they'd just turn a light on, but-

There's a moment of reticence when the energy surrounding them thickens, then, he knocks his knee on what can only be the shoe rack, and winces.

"Ugh," Viktor groans, grabbing him once more. "Just- stop, okay? I'm _tired_ , Yuuri."

"Yea, well, _me_ _too_ ," Yuuri fires back, though the fire dies quickly because Viktor's solid warmth presses flush to his spine.

"Thank you," Viktor concedes softly, maneuvering Yuuri through the tiny space as he complies; totally numb and on auto-pilot.

It's not until he's standing in his doorway, and Viktor steps away from him, that he notes the lack of supporting weight holding his hip.

 _Viktor's hand_.

"Goodnight, Yuuri," Viktor's voice trails as he continues down the hall to his own room- tone not nearly as frigid as it had been a few minutes prior.

A muted _click_ cuts through the deafening silence, and Yuuri swallows the lump forming in his throat.

.. oh no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viktor's initial use of 'Magda' is meant to be an insult/dig to Yuuri as it's slang for a fiery, promiscuous, up-for-anything, etc. party girl.
> 
> Hope this clears any confusion on the term, or at least it's role in this particular story :D


	2. Chapter 2

The following morning, Yuuri almost forgets what had happened the night prior. Until he goes to reach for his glasses, that is, only to discover they aren't there.

His stomach twists itself into a jumbled mess of knots before he's even managed to slip from beneath the covers, and when he slowly eases his door open, to the faint background noise of the television, those knots morph into full-blown anxiety.

Viktor's awake.

And he's in the living room.

.. where Yuuri most certainly left his glasses.

Just- _breathe_ , he reminds himself, then steps into the hallway.

Though, that feat is much easier said than done when he enters the already occupied space to find his glasses folded neatly atop his now stacked pile of books, which is perched ever so carefully at the edge of the coffee table.

"There should be half a pot, still," Viktor murmurs as he gets closer, not lifting his eyes from the text he's highlighting in fluorescent blue.

Yuuri stares.

_.. come again?_

Viktor looks up when he doesn't say anything, and the wrinkle of concentration that had fit itself between his brows vanishes. "You're welcome to make fresh, of course, but I believe what's left should still be warm."

Yuuri's heart stutters, then flips. "Okay," he says slowly, bending to retrieve his glasses. "Thank you."

"No problem," Viktor offers with hint of a smile- more of a quirk than anything, then goes right back to his reading.

Yuuri glances at the couch once more while en route to the kitchen, just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating or had just imagined that, but, _nope_.. Viktor is still positioned on the middle cushion- his legs folded in front of him, shoulders relaxed, and an open book propped on his knee.

A torrent of butterflies fight to be had inside Yuuri's sternum at that moment, so he has to turn away from the adjoining room to hide the flush that floods his face as a result of them.

_Oh god. Oh god oh god oh no holy shit-_

. . .

Yuuri is not ashamed to admit that yes, he definitely pinches himself over the course of the next couple weeks, because there really is no other explanation for Viktor's kind behavior other than Yuuri is simply dreaming.

All levels of attitude have been dropped. There are no longer vibes of unmitigated hostility the second Yuuri walks into the room. And for some wild, unfathomable reason, Viktor has seemed to lose focus on all means of personal space.

It started off gradually, of course, being that Yuuri first noticed how Viktor had all but stopped keeping at least five feet from him at any given time, like he had an invisible barrier Viktor was not allowed to cross.

 _Then_ , he noticed, when they'd pass in the hall, or had to share the kitchen, there would be small brushes.. barely there touches of sleeve to sleeve, shoulder to shoulder, and Yuuri's favorite; back to chest.

Now though, _now_ , there really is no excuse for the way Viktor moseys into the living room one Friday night, barefoot and wearing only a pair of thin pajama pants with a worn t-shirt that hangs from his frame in a manner that should be illegal, exposing his beauty mark speckled collarbone.

"Mind if I join you?" he asks Yuuri, who is already situated comfortably across a large majority of the couch, watching something he knows without a doubt Viktor does not, or will not, enjoy.

But that doesn't deter him from answering with a soft _sure_ , then moving to sit up with the intention of making room for Viktor.

"Don't let me disrupt you, though," Viktor says, ghosting a feather-light caress to Yuuri's shoulder before shimmying past him and sitting at his feet. "This is fine."

Yuuri blinks at him for a moment, trying to will his heartbeat to calm enough to think, then nods slowly before laying back again. "Okay."

Viktor smiles a smile Yuuri hasn't seen yet, then leans forward to grab a handful of popcorn, before propping himself against the arm of the couch.

The rest of the documentary may as well be being spoken in a language that Yuuri doesn't understand, because he can't hear another damn word of it. He's too busy focusing on the delicate profile of Viktor's face as _he_ works to absorb the commentary.

It's apparent that he's not all that interested in how many different species thrive to survive on the rainforest's floor, which does nothing but make _Yuuri_ interested as to why Viktor is even subjecting himself to it in the first place.

They go on like this for a few minutes, ten maybe, before Viktor shifts.

A movement that unavoidably brings his thigh closer to Yuuri's feet.

On instinct, Yuuri jerks away. But only out of courtesy, obviously, as he would _very much_  like to stretch in the opposite direction, but..

"Oh," he huffs awkwardly, bending his knees so that one foot rests on top of the other. "Sorry."

Viktor glances at him, and his breath catches. "It's okay," Viktor says quietly, voice settling perfectly in the otherwise calm stillness of the room. "I don't mind."

A warm fluttering stirs beneath Yuuri's ribs, and he swallows, somewhat thickly. ".. okay."

Though before he can resume his languid position, Viktor shifts yet again, and folds his own legs onto the couch.

He reaches out to scoop Yuuri's feet up in what has to be mindless impulse, then lays them over his calves where they rest between them.

It isn't until a few beats later, when he's returned his gaze to the tv, that he freezes.

The wideness of his eyes when he looks at Yuuri again tells him that he must not have realized what he'd done, until it was done, and Yuuri laid staring a hole through the side of his head.

"Is this alright?" Viktor asks hoarsely, mostly in a whisper, with cheeks tinged so pink it causes Yuuri's entire body to flush with adrenaline riddled warmth.

Yuuri nods- a semi-stinted movement because he feels kind of numb.

Viktor visibly relaxes a fraction, and nods himself. "Okay."

"Okay," Yuuri parrots through a murmur, unable to do much more.

They watch each other for a couple more moments before Viktor ultimately tears his eyes away, and redirects them to the temporarily forgotten documentary.

Yuuri lets his gaze linger though, physically incapable to focus on anything other than the gentle glow of the screen as it fans across Viktor's petite, ethereal-like features.

 _He is so absolutely gorgeous_.

And now that Yuuri has really _seen_ that, he's not sure if he could ever _un-see_ it.

Or that he'd want to.

 _Dammit_.

He sighs internally, because how many more weeks now?

Huh. That's right..

 _A lot_.

He smiles then, and nestles in.

 _Please let this become a thing, please let this become a thing, please let this beco_ -

. . .

It definitely becomes a thing.

And it's for that very reason Yuuri doesn't think twice about agreeing to go to the Sigma Pi Pre-Holiday Mixer together a couple weeks later.

I mean, it's not like they're going _together_ together; they're just going.. together.

Because they were both invited by mutual friends, and they'd be leaving from the same place, around the same time, anyway, so.. why not?

It only makes sense.

This is what Yuuri tells himself when Viktor knocks on his door frame a few days prior to the event with a handful of ties.

"What's up?" Yuuri asks from his desk, setting his pencil down so as to give Viktor his full attention.

 _Shut up_.

"Which one do you like most?" Viktor asks, stepping inside the room as he holds the ties up to his neck.

He lifts his chin a little as he does it, and Yuuri can't help but smile at how endearing that is. "Um.." he ponders, though he already knows which he's going to choose. "The purple one."

"Yea?" Viktor asks, not bothering to lower his chin just yet, so he's looking at Yuuri at an angle.

Yuuri nods. "You look good in purple."

Viktor smiles, that tiny quirk that he only seems to do when he's regarding Yuuri, and nods himself. "Then purple it is."

He turns to make his exit, then stops near the frame to grasp it. "What color are you wearing?"

Yuuri squints at the slight apprehension in Viktor's tone, then shakes his head. "Um, blue I think? Or teal. I don't know yet. Why?"

"No reason," Viktor says, all traces of apprehension gone. "I was going to order Tarren's, you ready to break soon?"

Yuuri smiles again. "Of course."

Viktor returns it in kind. "I'll be sure to ask for _extra_ extra sweet and sour this time, too," then he adds, "wildlife or aquatic?"

Yuuri grins. "Aquatic."

Viktor gives a final nod of approval, and makes his retreat. "I'll set up the queue."

Yuuri stares at the empty space Viktor leaves, much like he'd done in the past, but this time instead of red hot anger, or even agitation, there's nothing but a growing sense of adoration and fondness.

Maybe a smidgen of affection too, but, yea.. let's keep that to ourselves for now, alright?

Alright.

. . .

The mirror is still fogged from Viktor's shower, so Yuuri is watching his cloudy reflection through a tiny circle he cleared with his palm while he brushes his teeth.

The door is cracked as well, and that's why it doesn't really surprise him that a couple minutes after Viktor's departure, he lets himself right back in.

"Sorry, I forgot deodorant," Viktor says in way of explanation as he reaches around Yuuri to open the drawer just beside his hip.

Yuuri's eyes flutter shut briefly as Viktor's other hand lands on his opposite hip for leverage. "'s okay."

"Thanks," Viktor murmurs, straightening to stand directly behind him, thus creating an image that Yuuri knows he'll never be able to shake from his mind.

It will forever be ingrained into his memory, no doubt accompanied by the ache of want that follows; him, with a toothbrush hanging from his mouth while in a white undershirt, and Viktor, in an unbuttoned gray dress shirt, purple silk tie draped around his neck, and messy, still wet hair hanging in his eyes.

Incredibly attentive blue eyes that are locked on his in the steam streaked mirror.

"You, um," Viktor says, clearing his throat a few heady, emotionally tumultuous seconds later. "You've got.."

He reaches around Yuuri's front now, then proceeds to delicately swipe his thumb over Yuuri's chin, where toothpaste had dripped in his reverie.

Yuuri burns bright red, and goes to duck his head when Viktor huffs endearingly against his neck. "Very cute, magda."

Viktor leans forward a bit to run his thumb under the faucet, inevitably bringing his semi-exposed chest flush to Yuuri's shoulders, and Yuuri just narrowly suppresses a hum of contentment before the sensation is gone as quickly as it had manifested.

"I'll be ready shortly," Viktor says, slipping through the doorway once more, leaving Yuuri to blink dazedly at it in his absence.

 _Oh no oh no oh no oh no_ -

. . .

Logically, Yuuri knows that to those of whom who were already in attendance at Sigma Pi, it must have looked as if he and Viktor arrived together. As dates.

Because coordinating attire aside, Viktor not only took Yuuir's jacket for him, but also retrieved his first drink of the evening.

That is logically though, and that is purely speaking of those who were already in full swing when they got here- _not_ for those now, who have shown face way after the fact.

And much, _much_ later when he and Viktor have long since drifted apart.

Cause logically or not, they _didn't_ arrive as dates, and they are _not_ here together.

No matter how much Yuuri wishes that to be the truth.

It is for this very reason that he tamps back the sting of watching a pretty redhead preen and posture herself in front of Viktor with another long swig of his drink.

It shouldn't be as difficult as it is to see Viktor smile at her, either. Or to lean in close so as to hear what she most definitely said too softly, for that exact reason.

It shouldn't _hurt_ the way it does, having Viktor so far away, with someone else, when he knows what it feels like to have him so _close_ , and with him.

He can't take it. He's not strong enough to bear the gut-wrenching torture it's causing as Viktor leans impossibly closer, listening intently to words he can only imagine would cause him further anguish.

He has to leave.

He has to get out of here.

So he downs the rest of his drink- which is now what, his third, fourth.. fifth? and begins to slip from his place on the bar stool when Viktor's sudden frown makes him pause.

Viktor straightens, taking a visible step back, and shakes his head.

The redhead tilts her own as she considers what Viktor is saying, and then.. _then_ , Viktor looks over, directly at him.

Yuuri's heart lodges in his throat as he stares, unblinkingly, into the intense gaze of Viktor; a gaze that seems as if it's trying to portray something that Yuuri isn't quite grasping.

 _What is he_ -

Oh.

Oh no.

They're coming this way.

Yuuri pushes himself back up on the stool, bracing his elbows on the small round table in front of him for support lest he fall straight on his ass from the sudden overwhelming.. well, _everything_.

" _Magda_ ," Viktor purrs, sidling right alongside him to sling an arm around his waist.

What the?!

"I was just telling.. June? here that I couldn't possibly make it to the after party tonight because you have that thing in the morning."

Yuuri balks, eyes slightly wide as they dart between the two of them, and blood rushes loudly in his ears. "My.." he squeaks, earning a gentle huff from Viktor, along with a reassuring squeeze to his hip.

"Your meeting with O'Keffe," Viktor says somewhat pointedly, and after Yuuri stares for a moment longer, he draws in a sharp breath of realization.

 _The narrator of my latest documentary_.

"Right, yes," he nods. "I forgot. I'm.."

"You'll have to excuse him," Viktor says to the redhead- _June_ , curling in closer yet before pressing a soft kiss to Yuuri's temple. "He gets a little flustered after a few drinks."

Yuuri flushes, thankful for the dim lighting because if it weren't for that, he's sure they'd be able to see his blush from space. He huffs, ducking his head in attempt to hide it.

" _Viktor_ ," he says bashfully, pushing at Viktor's chest in light admonishment.

"So precious, my magda," Viktor murmurs affectionately, letting his lips ghost over Yuuri's temple once more, and Yuuri is about to unquestionably combust on the spot, when an incredulous scoff sounds from across the table.

He glances over just in time to see the redhead retreating, but before he can even think to feel sorry or bad about her departure, Viktor is untangling his arm, already driving a cold wedge between them.

 _No_.

He turns into the embrace, winding his own arm around Viktor's center instead, and pulls him back in.

This gets him an expression of shocked surprise, which is quickly covered with fond amusement, and as Viktor opens his mouth to ask what Yuuri is doing, Yuuri is already supplying him with an answer.

"What if she looks again?"

Viktor smiles, an easy, _genuine_ thing so sweet and so pure that it sort of leaves him breathless. Then, Viktor nods, lifting his free hand to brush the hair from Yuuri's forehead. "What if, indeed."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It got a bit longer than I had planned, so, three chapters now. :)
> 
> Also, now Viktor's use of 'Magda' has turned from insult, to endearment <3


	3. Chapter 3

Yuuri, is drunk.

And not just because he and Viktor stay at the mixer long enough to nurse another drink, but because being with Viktor like this, it's, well.. it's intoxicating all on it's own.

Under the guise of June's watchful eyes, Yuuri is able to act upon everything he'd been so vehemently denying himself previous.

A soft touch, raised to caress Viktor's delicate cheekbone.

A light peck, carefully pressed to the bolt of Viktor's angled jaw.

A lingering, suggestive stare that causes Viktor's eyes to flash in a way that Yuuri would very much like to remember until his last, dying day.

It's all encompassing- nearly _debilitating_ , so when the once dense crowd starts to thin, he's not the least bit ready to give it up.

He knows everyone is heading to the after party. The after party of which Viktor had already given reason as to why he, or rather, _they_ wouldn't be attending.

Yuuri now curses that decision, because regardless of the fact that it's the very reason he's able to be like this with Viktor in the first place, it also means that it will all soon come to an unfortunate end.

Of course, they could always talk about what it means that they're both so into it. But that would involve words, and articulating.. and, a higher brain function that Yuuri isn't really possessing at the moment.

Viktor leans into him just as the thought crosses his mind, and whispers in his ear, "Are you ready, magda?"

Yuuri nods, even though every other sense in his body is screaming _No! Not yet!_.

"Yea," he whispers, turning into Viktor one last time, relishing in the way the movement is welcomed. "Take me home, Vitya."

. . .

He knew this would happen.

He knew the second they walked in the door, the spell would be broken.

It's almost painful watching Viktor mentally work towards the things he so desperately wants to say, just as Yuuri himself does the same.

They stand, now suddenly awkward and tense while they stare at each other in the foyer.

 _Just say something_ , Yuuri's mind demands.

 _Anything_.

He opens his mouth, snaps it shut, then opens it again. "So.. that was really fun. Pretending to be your date."

And okay, that came out wrong.

Very, _very_ wrong.

Fuck.

Viktor's expression falters, and..

 _Fuck fuck fuck_.

"Yes," Viktor says, attempting to school his features, but failing horribly. "Pretending," he repeats, straightening his tie, which is pointless because it's already loosened. "That _was_ fun. Very ..fun."

Yuuri blinks at the change of tone, at how icy it's become, and before his alcohol muddled brain can supply a cohesive, _mending_ retort, Viktor is skirting past him. "Thank you for helping me avoid an unwanted situation tonight, Yuuri," Viktor says, posture stiff. "It was very appreciated. I'll see you in the morning."

Yuuri stares at Viktor's retreating back, then at his bedroom door as it clicks shut, and swallows at the giant, sick lump rising in his throat on a torrent of bile.

 _Oh no_.

. . .

No, Yuuri is _not_ crying.

He's not.

He's just.. really upset that he managed to shit all over what he and Viktor had been working towards; the friendship- the _relationship_ they'd been building.

And as a _result_ of being so upset, there may be some un-shed tears brimming his already blurred vision.

That's all.

It's actually why he doesn't see the spider next to his pillow right away. I mean, it could also be partly because he's too busy sulking instead of bringing his sorry ass down the hall to fix what he just fucked up. But that's neither here nor there.

The point is, he doesn't notice the little eight-legged intruder until it's _right_ in front of his nose, and nearly causes him to knock the lamp off his desk when he jumps from the bed like the uncoordinated fool he is.

The room spins once he's upright, so he closes his eyes against the nauseating tilt, then shakes his head before wrenching his door open and allowing the jolt of adrenaline to give him the push he so desperately needed, but couldn't muster himself.

He pauses just outside Viktor's door, rocking on the balls of his feet as his socked toes dig into the cheap carpeting, then heaves a deep, not at all calming breath, and raises his hand to knock softly, thrice.

. . .

"Yea?" Viktor's muted voice comes from within.

Yuuri exhales, twisting the knob. "Viktor?" he whispers as he pushes the door open, scared the name will crack on his tongue.

Viktor is laying on his side, frowning over his shoulder in the direction of Yuuri's presence, and Yuuri's heart sinks.

He looks hurt.

"What is it?" Viktor asks, tone not as icy as before, but definitely thick with said hurt and the threat of sleep.

"There's a spider in my room," Yuuri says dumbly, then wishes he could snap his fingers and disappear in a cloud of magic smoke.

Inebriated+tired+emotionally distraught+now _embarrassed_ isn't really a good mixture, he's quickly discovering, and it doesn't help that Viktor's frown only deepens.

"And what would you like me to do about that?"

Fuck.

"I um.." Yuuri drawls, scratching numbly at the side of his head as he squints at Viktor's form, illuminated by pale moonlight. "I don't-" he stops, clears his throat, "I just thought-"

"That I could kill it for you?" Viktor supplies.

".. yea," Yuuri confirms sheepishly, dropping his gaze to the floor. _And maybe forgive me for being such an idiot_.

Viktor huffs, and it's more exhausted sounding than anything. "Magda I can barely keep my eyes open, and even if I were able to channel the focus necessary to squish it, I highly doubt it's in the same spot as it was before."

"But it was on my _pillow_ ," Yuuri presses almost petulantly, well aware he'd just reached _whining_ territory, but unable to find an ounce of care within himself because he wants nothing more than for Viktor to climb out from under that plush comforter, and help him conquer the beast.

He needs to be close to Viktor again.

He _needs_ Viktor to revert back to the way he was at the party.

To how he was before they left.

To how he's been for the past few weeks.

Because this can't be it.

This can't be the end of the line for them.

Yuuri's not ready for that.

He's not ready to say goodbye to what he hadn't even gotten to experience in full yet.

"Please," he says, and dammit, _that_ cracked.

Viktor watches him for a moment, eyes calculating the sheer urgency- the _despair_ in Yuuri's demeanor, and he deflates. "Just," he says, rubbing at his face before pulling the covers back beside him. "Sleep in here."

" _What?!_ "

. . .

That's how he ends up in Viktor's bed, rigid as a damn board, and taking measured breaths so as to try and even out his heart rate.

 _He's in Viktor's bed_.

I mean, it's not like they're touching, or even that close, per se- given that the bed is so large, but that doesn't mean it doesn't _feel_ as if they're touching, or close.

Because it does.

Every inflation of Viktor's chest vibrates through the memory foam, and wriggles right into Yuuri's core.

It's nearly maddening- which in _itself_ is maddening, because something as mundane as a person breathing _shouldn't_ be.

He can't even close his eyes lest the room begin to spin again, and it's not so much the 'prelude to puking' spins, but more that he's just so fucking overwhelmed in every sense, that it all seems as if it's about to cave in on him.

He won't be able to last like this- he won't be able to _sleep_ , which will inevitably result in Viktor regretting his offer of sanctity, and kicking him out to fend for himself in the cold, lonely, darkened abyss of his room.

"Viktor," he whispers, turning onto his side to regard the undefined lump next to him. "Are you still awake?"

Viktor makes a noncommittal sound, but doesn't move.

Okay, then. _Just get it over with_.

"I'm sorry," Yuuri says, voice faltering only a fraction.

Silence falls between them, and Yuuri begins to wonder if Viktor really _is_ sleeping, when the man in question shifts, leaning back so that his shoulder bumps into Yuuri's chest.

_When did they get this close?_

"What?" Viktor asks, and Yuuri nearly forgets what they're even talking about because Viktor is _warm_ , and inviting, and he smells so _good_ -

"I'm sorry," Yuuri repeats, head swimming for a whole other reason now.

"What are you sor-" Viktor starts, but Yuuri intervenes before he can finish, the rushing in his ears making it feel as if his head is about to burst so he has to alleviate the pressure asap.

"I wasn't pretending."

Viktor blinks. ".. what?"

"I wasn't pretending, and I'm sorry I made you think for even a second that I was."

"Magda.." Viktor says softly- much too softly given the circumstances, and the way his features go lax makes something churn in Yuuri's gut.

It's the expression you get before you let someone down gently.

 _Oh my god_ , Yuuri thinks, beginning to panic as his skin prickles with the realization that it _was_ all fake.

He'd misinterpreted everything.

Oh my god. Oh no. Oh no oh my _g_ -

Viktor turns completely now, so that they're facing each other entirely; nose to nose, knee to knee, toe to toe. "Oh, magda," he murmurs, untangling a hand to brush the messy hair from Yuuri's forehead. "My sweet, precious magda.."

Yuuri swallows with a dry  _cluck_ , mind pivoting in a stunted double take as the next words wash over him like a rapturous supernova and Viktor's hand curls around to cradle the side of his neck affectionately.

"I wasn't pretending, either."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, it got away from me, so, _four_ chapters now. *upside down smiley*


	4. Chapter 4

"You.." Yuuri whispers, eyes widened in an astute sort of awe as his heart hammers wildly in his chest.

Viktor huffs fondly, dipping forward to press a soft kiss between Yuuri's brows as his thumb traces over the shell of his ear. ".. would love nothing more than to kiss you right now," Viktor says quietly, the warmth of his breath ghosting over Yuuri's lashes, making them flutter shut. "But I'd rather not do so when you're fighting for sobriety and I'm about to fall asleep."

"I'd like to remember it with full coherency," he tacks on as an afterthought. Or maybe to subdue Yuuri's silence.

But Yuuri's silence isn't a bad silence. It's just a silence that comes from being caught in the moment.

He nods, causing his nose to bump into Viktor's chin, and Viktor's lips to curl up in a gentle smile. "Would it be alright if we just slept tonight?"

Yuuri nods again, the simple words of _yes, I'd like that_ , lodged traitorously in his throat. Viktor seems to understand his ministrations though, and lifts a little to pull his other arm free.

He tucks it under Yuuri's head when Yuuri tips it in acquiescence, then wastes no time pulling Yuuri in to what is possibly the most inexorably _calming_ embrace he's ever been part of.

"Goodnight, magda," Viktor whispers into his hair, fingers carding delicately through those at the base of his neck to still once they've reached their destination.

Yuuri practically keens with the sigh of happiness that escapes him, and nuzzles in even more. "Goodnight," he breathes, splaying his hand against the thin, worn cotton of Viktor's t-shirt.

It doesn't take long for lucidity to slip from him, and when the first lull of heavy lethargy tugs at his consciousness, he goes willingly into the fog.

. . .

When Yuuri wakes up, he's hot.

Like, almost uncomfortably so.

It takes a moment for him to place where he is, and why the faint rays of morning sunlight are angled differently across his eyelids- far too bright, and _much_ too close.

But that's because Viktor's bed is pushed right up underneath the window; his many pillows acting as a makeshift headboard of which Yuuri hadn't been able to see the night before.

He catches a glimpse of it now as he cracks his eyes open, blinking out to the spanse of empty mattress beside him as Viktor lies dreaming along his back.

Yuuri smiles, stretching as much as able within the confines of Viktor's hold, and relishes in the way Viktor hums in contentment.

It's another few minutes before Viktor stirs, but when he does, Yuuri becomes alert instantly.

"Mm," Viktor hums, shifting closer as he tightens his embrace, burying his face in the crook of Yuuri's neck/shoulder. "Yuuri you feel amazing."

A light kiss touches the juncture, and Yuuri's eyelids flutter shut again. _Fuck_.

"So do you," he whispers, wrapping his fingers around Viktor's wrist, where it rests above his heart.

"I never knew waking up with someone in my arms could feel like this."

Viktor's voice is muffled now, but that in no way changes the effect of the words.

Yuuri's breath stutters at the implications of them, and he can hardly find the strength to remain positioned as he is.

_Because really?_

"Me neither," he says in return, arching his spine a fraction of a fraction, just to be that much _closer_.

" _Magda_ ," Viktor murmurs on an exhale, clutching at Yuuri's chest as the motion causes his budding erection to come into firm contact with the clef of Yuuri's ass.

Yuuri's eyes roll into their sockets.

 _Oh my god_.

"Viktor," he breathes, not even bothering to feel embarrassed or shocked by this sudden turn of events because it doesn't feel forced or even strained; it feels natural.

It feels right.

It's why he barely blushes more than the norm when he turns his head enough to be heard as he whispers, ".. touch me."

The response in Viktor is practically volcanic, and Yuuri is positive he blacks out for a moment because when he comes to, Viktor's lips are latched onto his skin, sucking what will no doubt be a giant, purple bruise, and Viktor's hand is wrapped securely around his dick, pumping slowly and languidly, like they haven't a single care or place to be in the world.

And truth be told, they really, honestly _don't_.

. . .

Okay, maybe that was too wide of a statement, because Yuuri does actually have to leave for home sometime later today to beat holiday traffic. But that's not now, here, this morning. That's later.

Way later.

And definitely after he washes the sticky warmth off both his stomach _and_ back.

Yes.

.. his back.

"Sorry," Viktor says dazedly behind him, his voice slurred with the aftershocks of orgasm. "I didn't mean to-"

"'s okay," Yuuri assures, voice just as slurred as he turns his head the _other_ way to press a soft kiss to Viktor's forearm beneath it. Then he smiles. "That was awesome."

Viktor huffs, kissing his clothed shoulder. "It was."

".. but I _would_ like to go take a shower. It's starting to get-"

"Yea, no, of course," Viktor says, carefully untangling his arms so as to not get the comforter any more dirty than it already is. Or Yuuri for that matter. "I'll um, start breakfast, or whatever. If you want."

Yuuri sits up slowly, his shirt slipping into place again from where it was bunched, and turns to look down at Viktor for the first time since he'd opened his eyes.

It steals his breath away; the way Viktor is blinking up at him with a gentle sort of reverence.. his hair a mess and cheeks flushed.

There's a delicate, _adoring_ smile painting his slick, pink lips, and Yuuri thinks he might be a little bit in love.

He returns the expression in full, plus some, then ducks down to taste that smile for himself. "Breakfast would be nice."

. . .

It's surreal, to say the least, to exit the bathroom only to have his senses flooded with a menagerie of scents and sounds.

The first of which he notes is the subtle undertone of incense or a candle. Then the heady, buttery aroma of pancakes, mixed with sweetness (blueberries, maybe?). Fresh, earthy coffee grounds permeate the air and cut straight through the faint tune of rhythmic music. And to top it all off, Viktor is singing.

Yes, you read that right.

 _Viktor is singing_.

Yuuri grins, a big, dopey stretch of his mouth as he makes his way into the kitchen, and not just because what Viktor is singing to sounds strangely a lot like what _he_ had been listening to all those weeks ago when Viktor snapped at him that _'that is not music'_ , but because there is no little bit about it; he is totally, unabashedly, in love.

It's what has him stopping near the edge of the counter just to watch while Viktor flits to and fro in nothing but his boxer briefs and a fresh t-shirt.

It's what has him biting his bottom lip to stifle his laughter as Viktor nearly misses the frying pan after attempting to flip a particularly fluffy pancake.

And, it's what has his entire being lighting up with the force of the universe when Viktor glances over his shoulder at the sound; his expression softening the moment his eyes land on Yuuri.

"How long have you been standing there?" Viktor asks around a sheepish smile, his cheeks flushing once again in a manner that Yuuri thinks he may never have seen anything quite as beautiful before.

"Only a minute," Yuuri answers, pushing away from his perch to cross the tiny space and stand right beside Viktor near the stove. "This smells delicious."

"Thank you," Viktor says sincerely, but the devious tilt of his smile tells Yuuri he'd been thinking something else.

Yuuri flushes himself, then glances away, clearing his throat to clear his head. "I'm almost sorry I'll have to go a whole week without it." _Without you_.

But the sentiment gets across, because Viktor's smile widens, and he leans in to kiss Yuuri's forehead. "Don't worry, magda, it will be here when you get back." _I'll be here when you get back._

Yuuri closes his eyes, and nods, reaching forward to brush his fingertips over Viktor's jaw. "Good, because I don't think I could eat anyone elses' cooking anymore."

Viktor huffs affectionately, lips still pressed to Yuuri's skin as he whispers, ".. neither could I."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit you guys. Holy shit. Thank you so much!!! Seriously, thank you. <33
> 
> Also, I marked it complete for now, as this is where I originally intended on ending it, but I could definitely, absolutely _for sure_ continue on with it.. as a few other scenarios have manifested themselves along the way. But I'll wait for feedback on the matter, because I'm not quite sure how the rest will play out as far as plot and timeline, but yea. Let me know! You guys are the best! :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in Viktor's POV.

Yuuri has been gone for two days. And Viktor never thought, in his twenty-one years of existence, that he'd resort to coddling someone's pillow because he missed them so much.

But, here he is, curled up on a corner of the couch that feels too empty without Yuuri's warm presence, watching a show that's not nearly as interesting as it would be if Yuuri were here to add commentary, and clutching a staling pillow to his chest in hopes to suck the last, lingering tresses of Yuuri's unique, sweet, _wholly_ intoxicating scent.

Don't judge him.

He's never been in love before. So this is all incredibly new to him.

Not to mention that he probably would have laughed belligerently in your face if you told him at the start of the semester that he'd end up falling so head over heels for the brilliant, though highly frustrating, intimidating, though inexplicably charming, absolutely _gorgeous_ boy from the unofficial (and very illegal) freshman mixer day before orientation that not only wow'd the crowd with his laid back, intriguing mind.. but also utterly _destroyed_ Viktor's heart.

That's not to say he himself wasn't partly to blame for the debacle that ensued as well, seeing as how they were both undeniably shitfaced. But the way of which Yuuri had just brushed him off like he was no more than a-

He shakes his head, working to dispel the thoughts he hasn't humored since what feels like another lifetime ago before they can burrow themselves into the forefront of his mind and ruin his new, freshly uncovered feelings of bliss.

There is no reason to dwell on something that happened over two years ago, between two people who are definitely not the same persons they were then, and who also happened to have been embarrassingly drunk.

It's pointless. A total waste of time. And he'd much rather be thinking about how _happy_ Yuuri makes him without doing much more than simply being in his life.

Because for the first time possibly ever, Viktor feels as though he's finally complete.

. . .

_[Received-Magda]_

_are u busy?_

Viktor smiles down at his phone, having just slipped it from the coffee table.

_[Delivered]_

_no, why?_

It starts vibrating almost immediately, so he swipes his thumb across the screen to answer the incoming call.

"So," Yuuri breathes, completely bypassing a formal greeting. "My whole family is mad at me."

"What? Why?" Viktor asks, bolting up straight as his brain starts sprouting every worst case scenario possible.

"Because they wanted to know _why_ exactly it is that I've been home for three days and haven't bothered to tell them that I'm dating my roommate."

"Oh," is literally all Viktor can say, and he deflates slightly against the back of the couch.

Because, well.. why _hasn't_ -

"Then they wanted to know why I didn't bring you with me."

".. oh," he repeats, beginning to wonder that himself.

Granted, he hadn't thought of it at the time either, but still.

Is Yuuri asha-

"And that just made me get mad at _myself_."

Um..

"Why?" Viktor asks, growing increasingly confused, and just a tad perplexed by this entire conversation.

"Because I _should_ have brought you with me," Yuuri stresses. "I miss you so fucking much, Vitya. And I just.. I wasn't thinking. Now I won't-"

"I miss you too," Viktor says through a smile, then settles further into the cushions. "And I would have gone with you if.."

"I'm such an idiot," Yuuri's voice is barely louder than a whisper, and it makes Viktor's chest pang.

"No you're not."

"Yes, I am. Now it looks like I was trying to hide our relationship or something. Or that I'm ashamed of it. And that's not the case _at all_. I just-"

Ah.

"You just wanted to keep it between us for a little while longer," Viktor supplies, feeling a bit like an idiot himself for thinking-

"Yea," Yuuri says quietly.

"Oh, magda. I can't wait til you're home so I can kiss that beautiful fucking face of yours."

Yuuri huffs on the other end, and that tiny, elated sound alone eases whatever tightness had been tugging at Viktor's core.

"I showed them your picture," Yuuri says a moment later, almost sheepishly. "My sister thinks you're hot."

The laughter that punches out of Viktor as a result is unexpected, so he tosses his head back against the armrest to brace it. "Which picture?"

"From the mixer," Yuuri answers, and it's clear that he's laughing, too. Viktor grins wider.

He'd forgotten about the selfies.

"Send it to me. Please. I want to see."

"I will," Yuuri promises. Then there's some shuffling on the other end, and a muffled _be right there_ before Yuuri's back on the line. "I um, I have to go."

There is no mistaking Yuuri's reluctance, so Viktor tries his best to mask his own as well.

"Okay," he says. "Text me later?"

"Of course," Yuuri states, as if it would have never _not_ been an option. "I love you."

Fuzzy silence rings in Viktor's ear for a grand total of a nanosecond before Yuuri's mortified stuttering is replacing it.

"I mean- I didn't. I'm-" he cuts himself off, groaning. "I'm sorry-"

"I love you too, Yuuri."

Silence.

One beat.

Two.

Then..

"You.." Yuuri pauses. "You do?"

Viktor smiles. His boyfriend is so incredibly _cute_. "More than I ever thought I was capable of loving another person."

".. _Vitya_ ," Yuuri whispers, which only serves to further lodge Viktor's heart even more so in his throat.

"It's true, magda."

"I-" Yuuri swallows. "Me too. I mean, I never thought I could.."

"I can't wait to see you."

"Me neither."

Another lull falls between them, then Yuuri huffs, breaking it. "I um.. I have a confession to make."

Viktor quirks a brow, shuffling upright again. "Oh?"

"I uh.." Yuuri clears his throat. "Before I left, I took one of your shirts." He stops when Viktor snorts. "Don't laugh at me! Anyway.. it doesn't smell like you anymore, and I'm kinda upset about it."

"I'm not laughing at you magda," Viktor assures. "Because I suppose I should confess something, too."

"And what's that?"

"Well, I've been carrying something around of yours as well."

"Seriously?"

Viktor hums. "The pillow you slept on the night before you left."

"Viktor.."

"Hey!" he chuckles. "Don't laugh at me!"

"I'm not," Yuuri insists, though his smirk is audible. "I'm just- fuck. _I said I'll be right there!_ " There's a heavy clunk, then a sharp slam that makes Viktor to pull the phone away from his ear, but only briefly because Yuuri is right back in the speaker. "Sorry. It was my sister. I really do have to go, though. Apparently my cousins just got here and my mom is rounding everyone up for dinner. But I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay, magda. Enjoy yourself."

"I will. And, you too," Yuuri huffs. "Don't over do it on your yoga."

Viktor snorts. "I won't."

"And.. I love you."

"I love you, too."

He can practically hear the beaming smile in Yuuri's voice when he says, "Bye, Vitya."

"Goodbye, Yuuri."

The line goes dead, but in all honestly, Viktor has never felt more _alive_.

He hops up from the couch with a newly founded vigor, and saunters down the hall towards his room.

He's got some major rearranging to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ho-ly SHIT! Thank you guys SO. MUCH! Honestly, your feedback has been amazing, and I appreciate ever last piece of it! <3
> 
> That being said, I know a lot of you were expecting/hoping Phichit would make an appearance, and in all honesty, he might in the next chapter. But I wrote this one like, at least six different times, and ended up completely scrapping what I had originally planned, as well as it's premise, and just starting anew because it wasn't sitting *right*.
> 
> So that leaves me here, with this, in Viktor's POV.. which is not at all what I had sought out to do. I hope it doesn't throw anybody, and you still enjoy it just as much as the previous updates.
> 
> Looking forward to your feedback, and again, as always, THANK YOU SO FREAKING MUCH! :D


	6. Chapter 6

Despite having called Viktor just before leaving his parent's house to let him know that traffic was supposed to be bad, and _again_ from his slow crawl on the highway when he was stuck in said bad traffic, Yuuri is still entirely taken off guard by the response he gets the second he walks through the door.

"Oh! Magda! You're home!" Viktor all but shrieks, fumble-jumping over the back of the couch to rush towards the door and take Yuuri's bags from his hands. "I was so worried. I'm so glad you're okay."

Yuuri huffs when Viktor then scoops him up into his arms, a fond sound, and wastes no time burying his face inside the front of Viktor's cashmere sweater. "I told you I was alright, Vitya. Just traffic."

"I know," Viktor murmurs, peppering soft, yet fervent kisses to the side of his face. "But the traffic report said there were at least four accidents, and when I hadn't heard from you again-"

Yuuri pulls back.

"You were watching the traffic reports?" he asks as he blinks up at Viktor through tired eyes.

Viktor smiles. "Of course, magda. The weather too."

This makes Yuuri snort, and he goes right back into his warm place against Viktor's chest. "I love you."

Humming, Viktor clutches at Yuuri's back a little tighter as he curls around him in kind. "And I, love you."

. . .

Yuuri had really only intended on taking a nap.

He had. Promise.

But what ended up happening, apparently, is he slept clear through the rest of the day, and well on into the night.

This probability is proved even further by the gentle sag of Viktor's eyelids, who is propped up against a few pillows Yuuri hadn't noticed earlier in his haste to sleep off the hectic commute.

He doesn't move right away, but instead blinks sleepily in attempt to better see the sight before him.

Viktor, looking wholly at home and at peace in his tiny nook carved out in Yuuri's full sized mattress, and the overall delicateness of his aura as he leisurely turns the page of his battered book.

He must sense Yuuri's lucidity though, because he lowers his gaze just as Yuuri thinks how he wouldn't mind having this forever.

Having Viktor, forever.

"You're awake," Viktor murmurs, settling his book to his chest. "Do you feel better?"

Yuuri hums, nodding against the smooth cotton of his pillowcase. "Tons."

"Good," Viktor smiles, just before his mouth rounds out into a yawn.

For a fleeting moment, Yuuri tenders the possibility that Viktor may untangle himself form Yuuri's sheets, and go sleep in his own room.

He hates even the _idea_ of that possibility, so he tosses out a request that may seem a bit obvious, given recent circumstances.

"Sleep in here tonight."

Viktor pauses, body going a tad rigid given his otherwise tepid state, and cocks his head ever-so-slightly to the left.

"I.." Viktor starts, but somehow his hesitation has Yuuri's heart hammering wildly. _Does he_ not _want to?_ Shouldn't they be- "..was already planning on it," he finishes before Yuuri's mind can continue to wander.

"You were?" Yuuri asks dumbly, despite his previous words.

Viktor huffs, slipping the book from his chest to set it on the tiny table beside him. "Of course, magda."

"Oh good," Yuuri says with a rush of breath, unawares he'd been holding it, and winds his free arm around Viktor's waist. "Because I don't want to not sleep with you. Ever."

Viktor smiles again, considering, then scoots his way down the mattress to lie face to face to Yuuri. "Well, I don't think you'll ever have to worry about that then," he says, brushing the flyaway hairs from Yuuri's forehead, and leans in to kiss the freshly cleared space. "Because I've already gotten rid of my bed."

Yuuri snorts, loudly, and doesn't even try to hide his giddy excitement as he lunges forward to capture Viktor's lips with his own; a litany of adoring words pouring from one breath to the other.

How many more weeks do they have for this now?

Ah, yes.. _all of them_.

. . .

"Vitya?" Yuuri muses over his morning strawberry, chewing slowly while perched on one of the two kitchen chairs, with his legs folded up in front of him.

Instead of answering verbally, Viktor just glances over his shoulder from his place in front of the stove.

It's an image that's just as enjoyable and intoxicating as it'd been the first time Yuuri witnessed it, a week ago, so he takes a second before continuing- letting his gaze drift from Viktor's mussed hair, to the loose t-shirt hanging on his relaxed shoulders, the sleep-rumpled boxer briefs, then all the way down to his bare calves and feet.

"Why did you hate me so much freshman year?"

This is obviously not the question Viktor had been expecting, and he is clearly taken aback by the randomness of it.

"I.. what?"

"Freshman year," Yuuri repeats, suddenly unsure of whether he should have even broached the subject or not. "You hated me. So much."

"Yuuri I've never hated you," Viktor says, switching the burner off before turning in place to watch him.

Yuuri frowns, because-

"If anything, I think it was _you_ who hated _me_."

Yuuri frowns harder.

"What?"

They stare at each other for a moment then, almost as if they'll be able to figure out just what's going on inside the others' head, when finally Viktor's eyes widen a fraction and he lets out a disbelieving huff.

"You don't remember, do you?"

Yuuri lowers his half-eaten strawberry, setting it next to his rapidly cooling coffee. "Remember.. what?"

"Fuck," Viktor laughs, tipping his head back to glare at the ceiling like it's personally offended him. "I don't believe it."

"Believe what, Vitya?" Yuuri's heart is doing that weird speed-beating thing again, and he doesn't think-

Viktor meets his eyes then, and though his face is tinged with a bit of wistful sadness, his posture remains open and loving. "Freshman orientation," is all he says, doing nothing to budge neither Yuuri's frown, or wild pulse.

"What about it?" Yuuri asks, wracking his brain for any significant fractions of time to pinpoint when exactly Viktor started hating him.

Or when _he_ could have appeared to have started hating Viktor.

Viktor, no doubt taking in his unwavering confusion, throws him a bone. "The night before."

And..

 _Oh_.

The mixer.

Yuuri deflates instantly, ducking his head, and knows damn well his shame is visible. "I.. don't really remember much from that night."

Viktor's silence is deafening, and every ounce of dread Yuuri's ever felt because of the things he doesn't remember clearly, _entirely_ from that night comes flooding back tenfold.

It throws him off kilter- debilitates him slightly, and..

It all makes sense now.

The fragments of lingering memories pairing perfectly with their angst.

Everything, falling into line.

 _All of it_.

The way Viktor's always seemed so guarded around him; so ready to attack at any second, but still somehow.. earnest. Content.

The genuine shock he'd expressed when Yuuri had offered him help, then shared his dinner.

How the hostility had all but been dropped the second Yuuri let Viktor help _him_.

The casual touches, the documentaries, the nights in, the tie colors, the smiles, the drinks, the laughs.

Viktor's words of: _I'd rather do so when you're not fighting for sobriety and I'm about to fall asleep. I'd like to remember it with full coherency_.

The feeling of coming home once they were finally in each others' arms. For real. No illusions, no games.

The morning after, when Yuuri had been certain that the final piece of which had been missing from his life slotted firmly into place.

Rightly.

And suddenly-

"That was you," Yuuri says softly, lifting his gaze as for all intents and purposes, a tiny light bulb blares brightly above his head.

Viktor, who has yet to move from his place a few feet away, nods.

"I.." Yuuri starts, but hasn't the first clue as to where to go from there, so he lets it hang in the air, hoping Viktor will-

"Are not solely at fault, here," Viktor concedes, now crossing the room to take the other chair. "I can see you doing that thing where you point all the blame on yourself, and it's not fair. So don't. Please."

"Vitya.."

"I was drunk too, Yuuri. I could've-"

"But all this time.."

Viktor drops his gaze, briefly, then reaches out to take Yuuri's hand. He laces their fingers. "I just assumed you'd rather not talk about it. That you-"

Yuuri groans, burying his face in his free hand as he recalls every instance he'd unknowingly repeated the words from that night over the course of the past two years- the last couple _months_ , and feels his ears heat with the sickening realization he'd been unintentionally hurting Viktor again and again.

 _Arrogant. Asshole. Prick. Insufferable_.

"Vitya I am so sorry," he stresses- _pleads_ headily, voice distorting as he withdraws his palm. "I never would have-"

"Yuuri, it's okay."

"It's not, though," Yuuri insists, tugging his fingers loose so he can cradle Viktor's face. "Vitya you have no idea how many times I've tried to put a face to the person I was with so I could apologize for the way I reacted. For the way I lashed out-"

Viktor dips in to press a gentle, chaste kiss to his bottom lip, then knocks their foreheads together. "I never would have hurt you, magda," he whispers, closing his eyes as if to really drive the sentiment home. "Not in the way you foresaw."

Yuuri's breath hitches, and he runs his thumbs under Viktor's temples. "I can see that now."

"I can understand why you would have thought so, though. Given that my last name is etched in the small copper donation credit plates all over campus."

"I was so stupid," Yuuri says, wishing upon wishing that he'd of just not had those last two drinks- or four, and instead of pushing Viktor away when their lips met, would of brought him _closer_.

"Don't say that about yourself," Viktor murmurs, kissing him again- this time at the corner of his mouth. "And please don't forget about the part where I called you a prude, and told you that you'd end up dying alone."

At this, Yuuri snorts, because he _had_ forgotten about that. Or maybe it was just one of the many lost fragments of time that got stuck in that pool house.

"Well, you weren't wrong about the first part," he says around a smile, something warming inside of him at the sight of Viktor's matching one.

"I beg to differ," Viktor counters playfully. "What happened last weekend, in my bed, that was _not_ something a prude would do."

Yuuri flushes, fighting a teasing grin. "It would be if it was the first time."

Viktor's eyes widen, and he takes a moment to absorb the meaning of that statement before answering. "You mean.."

Yuuri nods.

" _Magda_.." Viktor says quietly, full of wonder, and Yuuri has about half a second to place the tone of it before Viktor's lips are crashing into his.

 _It wasn't_ his _first time, too, was it?_

"Vitya," Yuuri tries, smiling so wide it's almost impossible to return the kiss. "Vitya was that really-"

"Mhm," Viktor hums, giving way to the threat of clashing teeth. "Yuuri, I-"

He cuts off, pulling back abruptly to blink at Yuuri's pleasantly warm face. "You said I was right about the first part."

"Yea.."

"What about the second?"

Yuuri's brows knit together, then-

"I can't die alone if I'm with you," he says by way of the obvious.

" _Yuuri_.." Viktor breathes, somehow winding them both.

"You're my forever, Vitya," Yuuri whispers, pliantly weaving their fingers, then squeezing. "I thought we've established this already."

Viktor huffs, a wet, thick sound. "I suppose we have."

"But I guess it never hurts to _re_ -establish."

"I guess not," Viktor smiles, raising their hands to kiss the back of Yuuri's.

"Can I re-establish something else?" Yuuri asks innocently, tipping his head to the side as if an honest inquiry.

"Of course, magda. Anything."

"I am so in love with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot begin to thank you all for all of the lovely, wonderful, AH-MAZING and incredible comments and feedback left during this process. It's more than I ever imagined would come of this silly little fic I started on a whim, and every one of them means the world. So, THANK YOU!
> 
> You guys are the greatest, and I hope you enjoyed! :D

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
